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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25938034">The Art of Deception</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/EarthsickWithoutYou/pseuds/EarthsickWithoutYou'>EarthsickWithoutYou</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Hannibal (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Enemies to Lovers, First Time, Hannibal is a Romantic Comedy, Honeytrap Will, Humor, Love Confessions, M/M, Smut, Stubbornly in denial Hannibal, idiots to lovers, set in season 2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-08-16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-08-16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 06:00:11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>7</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>10,338</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25938034</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/EarthsickWithoutYou/pseuds/EarthsickWithoutYou</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Set in Season 2, after Will's release from the BSHCI.  Hannibal has fallen into a complacent routine of lying to absolutely everyone about his feelings for Will, but his ability to deceive himself is quickly wearing thin.  Does Will feel the same, and can Hannibal fight past his own ridiculousness long enough to find out?</p><p>Inspired by the chapter titles in E.M. Forster's <i>A Room With a View.</i></p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>42</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>241</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Lying to Chilton</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p><i>“It is so difficult - at least, I find it difficult - to understand people who speak the truth.”</i><br/>
--E.M. Forster, <i>A Room With a View</i></p><p> </p><p>“I’m just saying...it seems...perhaps a little…”  Frederick Chilton sat up straighter across the dinner table from Hannibal, pivoting his hand midair in a most annoying manner.</p><p>Hannibal prepared to once again tune out from the man’s inane conversational antics.  He had to have Frederick over for dinner on occasion to keep the artifice of their professional camaraderie intact, until he could get the noose of the Chesapeake Ripper crimes firmly around the man’s weaselly neck.</p><p>“A little gay,” Frederick said finally, digging into his salad with a snide smirk.  “If you don’t mind my saying.”</p><p>Hannibal was shaken out of his intended reverie, wherein he thoroughly planned to spend the rest of the meal barely listening to Frederick’s prattle and focusing instead on thoughts of Will Graham.  As one did when there was an archnemesis in play, newly released from prison and strangely intent on resuming therapy.  </p><p>“I haven’t the slightest idea of what you may be alluding to,” Hannibal said smoothly, his fork stabbing a little too hard into the beets on his plate, producing a loud clank that made him squeeze his knee with his other hand in irritation.</p><p>“You and Will Graham, of course.  Come now, Hannibal, don’t you think there’s something almost overtly flirtatious about the entire prolonged psychological tug-of-war between the two of you?”</p><p>“I did not think you were prone to delusion, nor to making jokes in such poor taste,” Hannibal replied crisply.</p><p>“Oh, really, Dr. Lecter."  Chilton clucked his tongue.  "I may not like the man, but even I’m not above noticing that he’s immensely good-looking.”</p><p>“Will is aesthetically flawless,” Hannibal retorted, his eyes going dark although he maintained a tight smile.  </p><p>How dare Chilton refer to Will in such personal terms, and how dare he admire Will in such a repellently shallow manner?  Will’s beauty was one to be treated with the utmost reverence, and Chilton was not worthy of so much as glancing in Will’s direction.</p><p>Without questioning this somewhat disconcerting train of thought, or why he so often considered Will’s undeniable handsomeness with such distraction, he continued, “But I don’t see why that should lead you to form this rather absurd theory about our relationship.”</p><p>“You’re obsessed with each other,” Frederick chuckled, “You look at Will Graham as if he hung the moon, to use a nauseatingly prosaic term, and the way he looks at you, well…”</p><p>“What?” Hannibal asked a little too eagerly, his silverware clattering as he dropped the knife and fork onto his plate.  Clearing his throat, he made his expression bland again as he added, “What about the way Will looks at me?”</p><p>“He looks at you as if you’re the most beautiful work of art he’s ever seen, and the beauty is so powerful that it hurts him as deeply as a knife stab to the gut, but all he wants is more.  He’s ashamed of the feeling because he knows he’s supposed to hate you.  According to his narrative, you framed him for murder and put him behind bars.”</p><p>“Perhaps he is merely afraid of still wishing to maintain a friendship with me, after lobbing such unfounded suspicions in my direction.  And perhaps he’s ashamed of making a fool of himself by claiming I was guilty,” Hannibal countered, unable to hear his own voice above the pounding of his heart.</p><p>“He’s a fool alright, a fool for you.”  Frederick was never more conceited than when he actually happened to hit on an accurate revelation, and then he had to beat it into the ground with arrogant speeches.  “I mean, who in their right mind would get out of jail and immediately make a beeline for the man who’s supposed to be his worst enemy?  Wanting to restart therapy with you, of all things?  You must admit, it’s all very suspicious.”</p><p>“You may have dubbed yourself Will’s biographer, Frederick, but you are not mine.”  Hannibal leveled him with his well-honed look of death, combined as usual with an eerie smile.  “I would appreciate you letting this particular plotline drop, as I assure you it only exists in your own apparently fantastical imagination.”</p><p>“But--”</p><p>“And now, if you’d care to join me in the library for some bordeaux and a less patently inappropriate conversational topic?”  Hannibal began clearing the dishes and paused by Frederick’s chair with one brow arched expectantly, a subtle but clear warning.</p><p>“Only if you look me in the eye and tell me you’re not attracted to Will Graham and have no romantic designs on him,” Chilton insisted.</p><p>Hannibal sighed.  He never rolled his eyes but he felt fearfully close to the gesture now.  There was little point wasting time considering what else he felt fearfully close to.  </p><p>“I am not attracted to Will Graham,” Hannibal said firmly.  He looked into Frederick's obnoxious eyes with all the calmness he could muster. “And I certainly have no romantic designs on him.”</p><p>“Mmm-<i>humm</i>,” Frederick chirped, following his host to the library with what would have been a skip in his step, if it weren’t for his slight limp.  There was nothing quite so pleasing to him as getting a bit of higher ground over Lecter, and he’d never been this sure that he’d gotten under the skin of his annoyingly domineering colleague.  </p><p>He waited until Hannibal disappeared into the kitchen to procure the wine, and then he whispered in his direction, “<i>Liar.</i>”</p><p>*** </p><p>That night, Hannibal had an oddly hard time falling asleep.  Usually, his favorite rooms of the memory palace would suffice to provide quietly pleasing entertainment until slumber overtook him.  Between work and his many ongoing projects, he was busy enough that his body was normally very happy for the repose.</p><p>Yet now, he seemed to be actually tossing and turning, restlessly unable to find a comfortable spot in his enormous king bed with its silken sheets and buttery-soft duvet.  He still heard Frederick’s words haunting him, echoing through his ears but this time in Will’s voice, that low, manly, sensuous drawl of Will’s.  Just a tiny hint of a Louisiana accent lurking under the clever, sweet sound of Will saying, so softly, “When I look at you, it’s like I’m looking at a work of art, so beautiful that it hurts me.”</p><p>He could see it all too clearly; it would be just another therapy appointment until finally Will couldn’t bear the smoldering tension between them for another moment.  He would cross the room from his own chair to Hannibal’s and climb into the doctor’s lap, cupping his face and pressing their foreheads together as he spoke in a rough, fervent whisper, “I know I’m supposed to hate you, but when we’re together, all I want is more.”</p><p>Hannibal squeezed his eyes shut, but that wouldn’t dispel the vision, or Will’s voice, so he tried wrenching them open to stare at the ceiling above him in night shadow, which offered neither solace nor explanation.  How ridiculous, to allow Frederick Chilton, of all people, to disturb his implacable peace of mind with his outlandish suggestions.  How infuriating, yet undeniable, that when he thought of Will like that, one perfect curl tumbled over his brow, angel-soft lips framing a sigh as he dipped his head to claim Hannibal’s lips in a kiss, Hannibal found his fingers wandering under the sheets, reaching for his burgeoning erection.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Lying to Jack</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Doctor, you have outdone yourself again,” Jack remarked a few nights later at dinner.  “This cranberry roast duck is out of this world.”</p>
<p>Hannibal smiled, gracious as ever.  “Thank you, Jack.  I endeavored to include some of the best flavors of the season to--”</p>
<p>“Gamey-tasting meat, isn’t it?  Duck?” Jack mused between bites, letting the very rich flavor of the meal melt into his palate.</p>
<p>Hannibal bore the interruption with the utmost patience, since it was occasioned by Jack’s highly entertaining running commentary on the taste of Hannibal’s cookery.  The FBI supervisor always seemed right on the verge of guessing the food’s true origin, and it was endlessly amusing to Hannibal.</p>
<p>“For this duck, the game is up,” he winked, thinking the phrase was delightfully accurate.  The meat came from a man who had held up the line at the gas station for a full half hour the night before, so that he could request many complicated variations of scratch tickets.  How thoughtlessly rude, after all.  </p>
<p>Jack chortled and pointed his fork at Hannibal.  “Good one, my friend.  Now, listen, I’m concerned about Will.”</p>
<p>Hannibal spilled a tiny drop of merlot on his shirt sleeve and cleared his throat loudly.  “What?”</p>
<p>“Will, of course.  You say he’s resumed his therapy with you, do you think that’s healthy?  Or is he trying to get close to you again just to continue imposing his theory of your guilt?  How do you know he’s not creeping around your office, collecting evidence on you, after all--”</p>
<p>It was Hannibal’s turn to interrupt.  If he had his druthers, he might be more focused on Jack slightly overcompensating in his display of concern for Hannibal and belief in his innocence, but instead the words that stuck in his mind like glue were “trying to get close.”</p>
<p>“If Will chooses to be close to me, I’m sure it’s because he’s decided I am innocent and he feels he can trust me.”</p>
<p><i>Close</i>...Hannibal remembered his fantasy from the other night, Will in his lap, kissing him with riotous hunger, his own hands deep in those soft, chocolatey curls, then wandering down to grope Will’s unforgettably perfect ass…</p>
<p>Why was he thinking about Will Graham’s derriere, <i>again</i>?  And when would everyone stop barraging him with questions about the man, as if there was no one else in his life?</p>
<p>“Do you trust yourself with Will?” Jack asked thoughtfully, digging into his red bliss whipped potatoes.  Hannibal had been in the distinct mood for comfort food this evening, although he couldn’t imagine why.  </p>
<p>“Certainly,” Hannibal lied with a warm smile, eyes crinkling affably.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Lying to Bedelia</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Bedelia answered on the third ring as Hannibal let out a small sigh of relief.</p>
<p>“Dr. Du Maurier, I’m so pleased you took my call.”</p>
<p>He settled into his armchair by the flickering fire, content in his knowledge that his former therapist would easily dispel his ongoing angst for the insubstantial distraction it was.</p>
<p>“I’m not entirely pleased that you did call, Hannibal.  We had agreed that our patient-doctor relationship was at an end.”  Her voice was cool, but slightly curious.  He knew how to play on that curiosity.</p>
<p>“I respect your decision, but I’m calling to ask if you might talk me through a current issue of stress, as a favor between former friends--”</p>
<p>“We were never friends, Hannibal.”</p>
<p>He shifted in his seat, irritated.  “Colleagues, then--”</p>
<p>“We stopped being colleagues once you were my patient.”</p>
<p>“As a former patient!” He snapped, then pulled himself together.  “Please, Dr. Du Maurier, if you would be so kind.  You know me better than anyone, and I’m not sure who else I might contact to help me through this particular conundrum.”</p>
<p>“Why don’t you tell me about it, then?” She asked with cordiality tinged in the lightest shade of humor.</p>
<p>He was in no position to deny her this mild satisfaction at his weakened state.  “I find myself in a state of ongoing anxiety, ever since Will Graham was released from prison and requested to continue his therapy.”</p>
<p>“I see,” Bedelia sighed.  He could hear the distinct twist-and-turn of a wine bottle being divested of its cork, then the lilting fall of liquid into a glass.</p>
<p>“Are you drinking?” Hannibal asked, annoyed that she wasn’t taking this more seriously.</p>
<p>“No,” said Bedelia cooly, and around what sounded like a large swallow.  “Please, go on.  You and Will Graham.”</p>
<p>Why did everyone keep putting their names together like that, as if they were a couple?  Aggravating and preposterous!</p>
<p>“My relationship with Will is complicated.  Although we should be enemies, we seem drawn closer together than ever.  I’m worried that Will may be taking advantage of my friendly feelings towards him in order to continue his quest to prove I am the Chesapeake Ripper.”</p>
<p>“A valid theory, at least.  But certainly a potential problem which you’re well-capable of handling without all that much stress.  Is it bothering you because you care so deeply for Will?”</p>
<p>“I do not --”  Hannibal set his mouth in a hard line, fingers clutching the leather armrest.  “It’s merely the affection one feels for a close friend, from whom one has been estranged by a regrettable twist of fate.  If we have the chance to be friends again, I fear I can’t make myself turn away, even out of fear of his possible ulterior motives.”</p>
<p>“I’ve never known you to put yourself on the line for anyone you couldn’t trust.  In fact, you generally insist upon an informal contract of obligation in order to cement your favorite associations.”  She referred back to the incident of him helping her cover up her patient’s manner of death with deftly casual accuracy.  There was a vague undercurrent of resentment in her tone, suggesting ingratitude, but he would deal with that some other time.</p>
<p>“I don’t have a contract like that with Will Graham.”</p>
<p>“No.  You let him in for no other reason than that you simply...want to.”</p>
<p>Bedelia emphasized the word “want” with such effortless accuracy.  She had a way of getting to the heart of the matter which unfortunately suggested he had a heart to begin with.  Now he was nearly as irritated with her as he had been with Chilton and Jack.</p>
<p>“I shouldn’t have called,” Hannibal decided.  “Forgive me for taking up your time.  It was merely a fleeting sensation of stress, easily resolved.  I can break off my association with Will Graham if it makes me uncomfortable moving forward.”</p>
<p>“Can you?  Because I thought you said this was an ‘ongoing state of anxiety.’  And because I don’t think you’re capable of looking Will Graham in the eyes and saying the word ‘no.’”</p>
<p>Hannibal scowled into the phone.  “Good evening, Dr. Du Maurier.”</p>
<p>He tossed the phone to the floor and drank down the rest of his own wine in one long gulp.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Lying to Alana</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>This chapter includes a brief sexual encounter between Hannibal and Alana, just a heads up in case that bothers you (and I know the feeling; this pairing is one of my ultimate NOTP's 😂)  As you can imagine, Alana is not the one on Hannibal's mind in this moment...😏</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Oh, God, yes, Hannibal, right there,” Alana sighed as Hannibal ran his hands with polite accuracy over her lovely curves, targeting her usual areas of erotic sensitivity.</p><p>He kept his eyes shut as he thrust, kissing her neck and wishing that instead of jasmine and vanilla, he smelled cheap, horrible aftershave.  He let himself fall into the concept for some wildly incomprehensible reason, and before he knew it he was lost in visions of Will’s lush lips open with countless wet, wild whimpers and cries for Hannibal to fuck him harder.  He thought of spanking Will’s pert, shapely ass and driving into it with all the strength in his body while his teeth laid siege to the pale, stunning column of Will’s neck.  He thought of the way Will’s nipples would taste, and the soft, vulnerable skin of his belly when Hannibal ran his tongue over it to tease him before he took Will’s cock deep into the snug, silky embrace of his mouth.  By the time he let himself imagine the taste of Will’s hole and how thoroughly he would eat it out, making Will cry out filthy words and clutch at him with feet around his shoulders and fingers feverishly yanking his hair, Hannibal had come so hard that Alana seemed downright worried.  He nearly fled to the bathroom at the first opportunity, disposing of the condom, then glancing with confusion at his uncharacteristically sheepish face in the mirror.</p><p>“That was really something,” she said awkwardly as they lay in bed afterwards, not cuddling but instead keeping a good amount of distance between them.  There was an unspoken discomfort between them that felt like the sort of prelude with no middle plot to follow, only an ending.</p><p>“Yes,” he said almost formally, hands folded neatly on the sheets.  His breaths were still coming raggedly, but he could try to maintain composure.  It was all he had left by now.</p><p>“At one point, um…”  </p><p>He turned to see Alana watching him with delicate annoyance slowly shifting into full-on indignation the more she considered what had just occurred.  She sat bolt upright and glared at him.</p><p>“Hannibal, at one point you called me <i>Will.</i>”  Her lips twisted in an accusatory grimace as Hannibal fumbled around for some reasonable excuse.</p><p>Had he really called Will’s name out loud, the way he cried it out when he was alone in bed, masturbating frantically? Well, there was no getting around it. This was awkward.</p><p>“I’m truly sorry, Alana.  I assure you it had nothing to do with any sort of sexual or romantic line of thinking.  Sometimes I take the work home with me, unable to quite clear my mind of the day’s problems.  Today must have been one of those days.”</p><p>“You’re saying you blurted out Will Graham’s name in bed with me because you were thinking about his case file?” Alana found her clothes on the floor and threw them back on in a flurry of anger.</p><p>“It’s certainly not that unusual an occurrence,” Hannibal suggested, even looking a bit insulted by her insinuation. He injected his tone with haughty authority:“I take my work very seriously, Alana.”</p><p>“Go to hell,” She declared, grabbing her purse from the chair by the bedroom door.  “We’re done, Hannibal.  Don’t call me the next time you want someone to hide in while you indulge your secret obsession with Will.  Maybe just, God forbid, call Will!  The two of you deserve each other.”</p><p>She slammed the bedroom door, and then the front door on her way out, and Hannibal sat there besieged by perplexity.</p><p>He could hardly believe he was still struggling with this completely unnameable and unaccountable crisis.  Instead of caring that he had lost his personal association with Alana and therefore her usefulness as an alibi for any of his upcoming murders, he seemed to be caught up in some of the things she had said, such as that he should call Will if he had a sexual or romantic need.  Or that he and Will ‘deserved each other.’</p><p>At this juncture, Hannibal believed the only thing he truly deserved was a nice long break from having to hear about Will Graham.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Lying to Abigail</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Now we saute the bacon for about three minutes, just to lightly brown it.”  Hannibal moved easily around the small kitchen of the house where he had sequestered Abigail.  </p><p>All of his safehouses were well-appointed and cozy, with this one being no exception.  Nestled along a desolate but eerily lovely coast, it was an ideal place to allow Abigail time to recover from the shock and trauma she’d endured in the wake of her parent’s death.  Here, there were no despicable reporters or FBI bloodhounds harassing her with accusations, no psychiatrists to follow her around with condescending and ill-informed attempts at guidance.  She had a qualified guide to assist in her recuperation, and when the time was right, they could leave this place and start anew elsewhere.</p><p><i>We could bring Will.  We could still be a family.</i> The thought bounced into Hannibal’s mind with sudden, urgent optimism that unseated his pride, removed everything but the idea of being together with Will.  Hannibal had to make a fast recovery, which he accomplished by telling himself it would be satisfying, after Will said the light of friendship would never touch them again, to get the man to want his companionship again.  Just companionship, camaraderie, and coparenting, of course.  He was above laying himself open to heartbreak by considering anything deeper.  He had never needed romance before, not the real kind that involved life-changing emotional intimacy; it was altogether too dangerous to entertain the notion.  It was practically suicidal.</p><p>“I think that’s enough,” Abigail noted, removing the bacon with a slotted spoon at a wise interval before it burned to a crisp due to Hannibal’s neglect.  She turned her gaze to him, infinitely curious, brilliant and innocent in a way he found so endearing.  “Can we brown the beef in the same pan?”</p><p>“Just so.  Then we can prepare the carrots and onions, flavored by the fat left behind by the meat.  We’ll drain it before returning the bacon and beef to the pot.”  Hannibal spoke mechanically, the steps in the recipe for beef bourguignon so ingrained to his memory that no effort was required.</p><p>He had hoped that an evening of assisting with Abigail’s ongoing education, her cooking and harpsichord lessons, might calm his ragged thoughts. Instead, he was still consumed by hassling mental tangents centering on--</p><p>“So, how’s everything going lately? With Will, I mean.” Abigail’s blue eyes landed on Hannibal with such effortless investigative skill that he had to remind himself once again she wasn’t his and Will’s biological child.  She otherwise might have been Will’s daughter, to the last detail of her brunette hair, fair complexion and inconvenient habit of sussing out the truth while being too endearing to make him entirely resent her for it.</p><p>“Pay attention to the vegetables before they burn,” Hannibal said curtly, turning away and beginning a methodical, completely unnecessary reorganization of the table linens in the drawer below the counter.</p><p>Abigail snorted.  “Pay attention to the way you’re freaking out over Will, before you push him any further away.”</p><p>Hannibal was quite sure his cheeks weren’t turning pink out of being “called out”; it must be the heat from the stove.  “Abigail, it’s really none of your business--”</p><p>She shrugged, shifting the carrots and onions in the pan with the spatula.  “Isn’t it?  Aren’t we family?  That’s what you said.  You and Will will protect me, right?  Can’t protect me if you’re at each other’s throats.  So weird, because you’re so obviously in love with each other.  I was looking forward to finally having a normal family, but we can’t have that if you two are going to stay deadlocked forever.”</p><p>“You know I’ll never be normal, any more than you, or Will for that matter.”</p><p>Abigail sighed as if she was the elder here and he was a petulant child.  “You know what I mean, you’re just ducking the point.”</p><p>Hannibal placed the pre-measured amounts of salt, pepper and flour on the counter beside the stove, shooting Abigail a look of strained patience.  “You’ve professed an interest in criminal justice, but at the moment I might argue that your professional future lies in psychology.”</p><p>“Why choose?  Will does both. So, when you see him for your next session, are you going to tell him how you feel?”</p><p>Hannibal bristled and returned to the linens.  Perhaps he would organize them a third time in alphabetical order by color, in French.  “I don’t feel anything beyond following a basic code of self-preservation by keeping an eye on a man who within recent memory has pointed a gun at my head twice.”</p><p>Abigail laughed,“You guys are cute.”</p><p>He frowned and smoothed out a wrinkle in a lemon-yellow tablecloth.  “Even when we are trying to kill each other?”</p><p>“Oh, especially when you’re trying to kill each other.  That’s when it’s the most obvious you just want to pick out china patterns for your wedding registry.”</p><p>“How ludicrous,” he mumbled, although surely a Royal Copenhagen Flora Danica set would do nicely.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Lying to Katz, Zeller, Price, the Grocer and the Mailman</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Hannibal was called in to consult on a new murder case with the FBI, and went into the field with an eagerness to purge his mind of Will by filling it with blood, guts, and hatred.  All of his favorite things!  How could they fail to ease his mind now?</p><p>Unfortunately, it was a crime of passion.</p><p>“The killer was in love with the victim, but they could never be together,” he surmised drily, hovering over the corpse in the art museum alongside Agents Price and Zeller.  “So he’s memorialized her forever, made her art for the world to admire.”</p><p>“Oh, how romantic,” Brian Zeller snarked.</p><p>In such moments, confronted with the tiresome small-mindedness of the other team members, Hannibal missed Agent Katz.  He could imagine her being there now, in spirit, casting him an amusedly insightful glance.</p><p><i>“That’s...horrible and chilling, but it seems accurate enough,”</i> Beverly observed in his vision.  He refused to attribute her ghostly presence to anything so nonsensical as guilt on his part for murdering her.</p><p>“Can you imagine being so obsessed with someone that you’d rather carve roses into their innards than live your life apart from them?” Zeller clucked his tongue and shook his head, incredulous and obnoxiously judgmental of the thoroughly understandable instinct.</p><p>“I don’t even like my cat that much,” Jimmy Price put in, “And I really like my cat.”</p><p>“Love is often incomprehensible to those who have never felt its full force taking over their soul until they can scarcely breathe.”  Hannibal meant to speak calmly, but he heard the tension ratcheting his words tight and heated.  </p><p>He felt his nonchalant glances at the others turning into a glare as he elaborated,  “This killer is writing a poem inside the body of the purest beauty he’s ever seen, and the poem is for her.  What could be a more fitting tribute for a cursed and doomed romance?”</p><p>
  <i>“You sound just like Will,” Beverly murmured, taking notes on her tablet.  “Talking about the killer’s design as if insanity makes sense when you turn it inside out.”</i>
</p><p>“Doesn’t it?” Hannibal proposed.  He felt a sprig of zest growing in his heart at her words.  He sounded ‘just like Will.’  They were that conjoined, even now, even when--</p><p>He realized he had spoken directly to Beverly and must quickly cover up the fact.  “Ahem, that is, don’t the killer’s motives make sense if you examine them closely enough?”</p><p>“Not if you’re sane,” Zeller quipped, “But hey, that’s what makes you and Will Graham the psych experts.  We just deal with the physical evidence, which is fine by me.  I’m a happy squint.  Don’t know how I’d sleep at night if it was that easy for me to imagine how a murderer feels.”</p><p>“Hey Dr. Lecter, have you and Will Graham ever been on a date?” Price chirped up, as if he’d just had the most brilliant idea that no one else had thought of <i>and harassed Hannibal with for days on end.</i>  “Might be easier to sleep at night with someone else who sees the design and copes with it every day.”</p><p>“We have not, Agent Price.”  Hannibal stood from his crouch by the corpse and frowned delicately.  “And despite being a confirmed bachelor, I assure you I sleep just fine.”</p><p>
  <i>Beverly giggled, covering her mouth when Hannibal glared at her.  “I’m sorry, it’s just...you haven’t slept at all lately, have you?  All you ever think about is Will, and by killing me, all you did was make him hate you even more.  You can’t begrudge me a good laugh at your expense, I think you owe me that much, right?"</i>
</p><p>Hannibal’s heart sank.  All of a sudden he could barely wait for the work day to be over.  Perhaps he wasn’t cut out to “be Will Graham” in the field, after all.</p><p>***</p><p>“Scalloped oysters and jalapeño-chile spoonbread?” The friendly fellow who always checked out Hannibal’s groceries at the nearest high quality market whistled when Hannibal announced his planned recipe for the evening.  “That’s some scrumptious comfort food you have on tap, Dr. Lecter.  I think I can guess the reason!  Every time I get my heart broken, my first move is to make some kind of cornbread variation.  I’ve created twenty different recipes for it by now.”</p><p>“Twenty heartbreaks, I’m sorry to hear about that,” Hannibal smiled with venomous politeness as he slid his credit card into the payment slot.  “I’m lucky in that solitude has insulated me from any motivation in my choice of cuisine, aside from satisfying my own appetite.”</p><p>***</p><p>Hannibal returned home and began by opening his mailbox to ensure nothing special had arrived in his absence.  One of his other strangely recurring dreams involved Will Graham sending him a love letter or just a simple invitation to dinner, where there would be candlelight, kissing, sex on the table...he shook his head and recalled himself to reality with a tremor of unbearable yearning.</p><p>“Sorry, Dr. Lecter, nothing special today, just a lot of junk mail,” said the mailman, Stanley, hovering on the edge of the lawn.  He must have dropped off the mail moments before, but Hannibal had been so absorbed in his thoughts he didn’t even sense another person’s presence -- which was unheard of.  “I wish I didn’t have to deliver that nonsense, it’s just a bunch of ads, but what can I do?”</p><p>Stanley, an unassuming man with a badly groomed mustache, shrugged, and Hannibal wanted to disembowel him in the front yard.</p><p>“I wasn’t expecting anything special!” he snapped, making the man flinch.</p><p>“Sorry again, you just had this excited look on your face, as if…”</p><p>“Won’t you come inside for a moment, Stanley?” Hannibal requested cordially, the picture of a perfect customer.  “Forgive my lapse in manners; I’ll make you some tea and perhaps you can advise me on the proper postage for a package I’m preparing to send out.”</p><p>“Oh, sure thing, Doctor, let me just see how heavy it is…”</p><p>Hannibal slit Stanley’s throat in the kitchen and then stood staring as the blood spread in a large, shining pool all over the floor.  With the knife still clutched in his head, sweat on his brow and his hair disheveled, heart racing from the thrill of a quick and unplanned kill, he finally felt better, reassured, perhaps even ready.  Ready to see Will Graham again and put a permanent end to the problem he represented.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Lying to Will</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p><i>“It isn't possible to love and part. You will wish that it was. You can transmute love, ignore it, muddle it, but you can never pull it out of you. I know by experience that the poets are right: love is eternal.”</i><br/>
--E.M. Forster, <i>A Room With a View</i></p><p>“Will,” Hannibal greeted congenially, stepping back from his office entrance to admit his patient.  “How are you this evening?”</p><p>“How do you think I’m feeling, Dr. Lecter?” Will inquired with a flirtatious-sounding music in his voice.  Hannibal’s knees almost buckled, but he got the door shut.</p><p>Will’s jacket was folded neatly over one arm, and he was wearing a light green shirt which had been pressed, and which furthermore fit his gorgeous frame to perfection, hugging his strong upper body and slender waist so that by the time Hannibal’s eyes flickered unintentionally to his snug-fitting grey trousers, he was out of his depth.  The green in the shirt brought out the subtle light of the same shade in Will’s eyes, and Will’s sardonic, accusing smile was as haunting as the most profound poetry to Hannibal’s soul.</p><p>“Hmm?  How should I feel?” Will tossed his jacket down on the couch -- <i>oh, let him, the darling boy</i>, and sat down on the front edge of Hannibal’s desk, marking Hannibal’s territory with his touch, displaying himself like the intoxicating personification of pure sex he was-- <i>Wait, no, that isn’t right, you’re going to kill him and eat him…of course you are...</i></p><p>“However you want to feel,” Hannibal shrugged, sitting beside him and folding his hands in his lap, relieved that his arousal was not visible at this point.  He scented the air, warm with Will’s tormentingly close body heat and spiced with a much nicer aftershave than usual, woodsy but in a softly silky way.  </p><p>If he wasn’t mistaken, Will was overtly trying to impress him.  But was it to seduce or to tamper with his sanity and then toss him to the wolves?</p><p>“Do you let yourself do that, just allow your emotions to run rampant, let your instincts rule your days?” Will smirked.  “I don’t think so.  Ever take your own advice, Doctor?”</p><p>
  <i>Have you ever been fucked on a desk, Will?</i>
</p><p>“Ahem.  Admittedly, it’s difficult advice to take. Society preconditions us to smother our basest needs and take up the pretense of independent composure, implacable resistance to having our emotions make us weak or tender.  Worst of all, sentimental.”</p><p>Will laughed.  “Even <i>you</i> are subject to base needs?  I’m scandalized, Dr. Lecter.”</p><p>
  <i>If he calls me ‘Doctor’ one more time, I’m going to have him against the bookshelf until he’s screaming it.</i>
</p><p>“It’s much worse than that, Will.  Sometimes I’m even subject to sentimentality.”</p><p>“Perish the thought.  At least you aren’t sentimental about me.”  Will did that sexy eyebrow raise, prompting Hannibal to shift incrementally closer with an elegant, small smile which did not betray the storm within.</p><p>“That would be very ill-advised,” Hannibal answered, but his mind finished the sentence with <i>”mylimasis</i>.”  “Although,” he resumed,  “I’ve had the strangest trend emerge in my life this week.  It seems everyone I come across feels compelled to ask me about our relationship.”</p><p>“Oh, God, you, too?” Will’s debonair attitude evaporated as he stood up and began pacing around the desk, going off on an impetuous tangent -- rather obviously, letting off steam.  “No one will shut up about you!  <i>‘How is it going with Hannibal?’ ‘Are you sure you should be seeing him again?’”</i></p><p>“Yes, it’s obnoxious and prying,” Hannibal agreed.  “<i>‘Is it healthy to take Will on as a patient again?’  ‘Do you have clearly defined boundaries’?</i>”</p><p>“<i>‘Weren’t you planning to get revenge on him, not seek out his guidance?’</i>” Will continued quoting his friends and coworkers with a high-pitched, mocking tone drenched in annoyance.  “<i>‘Are you sure your feelings for each other are platonic?’</i>”</p><p>“What nonsense!” Hannibal chimed in, “They’ve been asking me that as well.  As if there’s even the slightest hint of anything beyond friendship in our interactions.”</p><p>“You <i>wish</i> we were friends,” Will snarked, “We’re not even that, never mind potential lovers.  Such a stupid idea, but people are stupid.”</p><p>“People are idiotic.”  Hannibal drummed his fingers on the desk to contain himself.  “I could never want you in that way, obviously.”</p><p>“Obviously!  I mean, you’re probably only letting me back in your life to keep an eye on me so I don’t kill you in your sleep.”  Will chuckled darkly, but his eyes were a little too wild to validate his words.  “I’m only here to work out my issues with you directly, I’ve made that clear.”</p><p>“Of course.  You resent me.”</p><p>“I hate your guts, actually, you can quote me on that,” Will corrected him fluidly, pausing in his pacing and ranting to stare into Hannibal’s eyes, taking a deep breath at the golden-brown shade of them, the cool calm battling tumultuous unspoken fathoms.</p><p>“I’m not overly fond of you either, given that you accused me of being a serial killer and then pointed a gun at me twice.”  Hannibal’s mouth watered as he went on surveying the tight fit of Will’s trousers, then returned his gaze to Will’s tempting lips.  There was so much beauty before him that it was hard to decide where to bestow his attention first.</p><p>“You <i>are</i> a serial killer, you son of a bitch!  And you framed me, you betrayed me, Jesus!  You’re the worst person I’ve ever met.”  </p><p>“You are narrow-minded and unforgiving,” Hannibal retorted, standing and placing his hands in his pockets, facing Will head-on.</p><p>“You’re repulsive,” Will answered, striding towards him with surprising, sudden speed.</p><p>Hannibal’s heart hammered in his chest.  “You’re--”</p><p>Their bodies collided with reckless heat, Will’s mouth searing into his as their hands roamed freely.  Stars exploded behind Hannibal’s eyes as fire raked up his spine at the taste of Will’s open mouth, roughly tasting <i>him</i>, again and again.  Before he knew what he was doing, Hannibal had a hand deep in Will’s hair and pulling, the other firmly smoothing over Will’s side to clutch at his hip and drag their groins together.</p><p>Immediately, Hannibal’s movements were calculated, dominating and severe, while Will was harsh and demanding but quickly disintegrating against him.</p><p>“God, oh, God,” Will breathed heavily, lips still inches from Hannibal’s, “You make me want things...things I’ve never wanted.”</p><p>“What do I make you want, Will?”  Hannibal backed him up against the bookshelf and covered his neck in wet, open-mouthed kisses. </p><p>Will’s fingers dug into his back and shoulders as he trembled, moaning.  “To be...oh, my God, Hannibal…”</p><p>Hannibal smiled, then licked at the skin he’d just punctured slightly with his sharp teeth.  He gave the small wound a hard suck, claiming Will finally as his own, and then said the words he so often used in session.  Now he said them intimately, in a dark, sensuous purr: “Tell me, Will.”</p><p>“To be whole,” Will confessed.  “Don’t know why I...what it is you bring out in me.”</p><p>“Don’t lie.”  Hannibal loomed before him, refusing to touch or taste again until Will surrendered honesty.  </p><p>“I hate you,” Will snarled.  </p><p>He undid Hannibal’s tie and tossed it aside, then ripped his enemy’s shirt open, thoroughly ruining it.  His hands were all over Hannibal’s exposed chest, roaming greedily through the soft dusting of his silvery chest hair, tracing hardened nipples as Hannibal watched him through hedonistic, narrowed eyes.</p><p>  “Mmm, <i>God</i>, you're so beautiful."  Will shook his head but couldn't shake off the truth: "I love the way I feel when I’m with you.  It’s like...this high I can’t get with anyone else.”</p><p>“No one else sees you for who you really are,” Hannibal reminded him, “I see you and to me you are breathtaking in every stolen glimpse of your violent inner beast.  You are a creature of beautiful instinct and bloodthirsty passion, replete with an unpredictability that sets my soul alight.  When we are together, I’m the one who feels struck down with fever.”</p><p>“That’s why you run from me.  Lie to me.  Put me behind bars, dance this dance.  Your games are played out of fear,” Will posited, slowly unbuckling Hannibal's belt.  </p><p>“Aren’t yours, Will?  To be afraid of me is to fear yourself, yes?” </p><p>Will gave a jerky nod, eyes glazed with painful-looking tears, pride and morality fighting the truth.  His cheeks were pink, lips lush and tempting, curls ruffled into a wild halo.  </p><p>“Are you afraid now?”</p><p>“Yes,” Will admitted, “And I want you to fuck me right up against this fucking bookcase.”</p><p>Hannibal grinned, wolfish fangs gleaming.  “I think we had better begin over the chair.  Have you done this before...with a man, mylimasis?”</p><p>Will blinked at him slowly, aroused and curious at the softly spoken Lithuanian endearment, the sight of Hannibal’s deep fondness for him which could never be convincingly concealed, but now shone with utterly naked vigor.</p><p>“No, but I don’t want it to be gentle.  There’s nothing tender in me now, I’m all teeth...you’ve been digging into my skin and hurting me, forcing me to look into a mirror to the other side of my becoming.  What’s between us is hard and messy and painful.  Let it be that way.”</p><p>The older man nodded.  Perhaps there was no tenderness in Will’s tangled knot of emotion, but Hannibal felt his own poignant pangs of sentiment for his lovely, brutal boy, tearing him up inside all over again.  He would bring his own love to bear in ways he hoped would clarify another important truth to Will: beneath every game they had ever played to hurt each other, every barbed word, every poisonous glance, there was a powerful vulnerability.  He had no intention of languishing there alone; he wanted Will weeping and begging for him, loose and dripping, empty until Hannibal filled him up.</p><p>Will might be surprised to find how much of tenderness there was in pain.</p><p>Hannibal kissed him again, hard and sloppy, exploding into the thoughts of every anguished moment he’d spent trying to force these feelings back down.  When it came to Will, he had never been particularly good at keeping his hands to himself.  Despite his occasional trespasses into the younger man’s personal space, the fleeting incidental touches and even the most painful, rough deceptive violations -- the flashing lights in Will’s haunting blue eyes, the tube stretching his throat while Hannibal stroked his pretty face -- nothing had ever come close to fully expressing his repressed desire.</p><p>Those lips were burning into his, lingering traces of coffee soon disappearing into nothing but the hot, sleek and masculine taste of the two of them together.  Will was hard in his trousers, rubbing against him with some barely understood animal need for more than pleasurable friction, to push past skin and bones and lust into a union that defied all laws of nurture.  They were nature, and they were forbidden, stag and wendigo melded as one, melting into each other’s longing until the distinctions that made them separate entities with minds of their own started to fade; they could finish each other’s sentences now.  They could finish each other’s thoughts before the merest concepts began to crystallize.  Hannibal could bring out the villain in Will and find his own most horrific qualities calmed like a tensed wildcat, hypnotized by his beloved.  Coiled tight and waiting, like the heat in his low belly sweeping through his groin, making his eyes roll back and drawing a groan from his lips.  Curious to see what would happen if he teased the worst out of Will, the loveliest evil.</p><p>Will had a hand down Hannibal’s trousers and had been stroking him, had found the moist beads at the tip of his cock and used them to lubricate his squeeze and glide.  </p><p>“I’ve dreamed of watching you break and bleed your future victims with those hands,” Hannibal breathed sharply.  “That would have been honor enough.” </p><p>Will tugged Hannibal’s trousers down, then pulled off his socks and shoes, looking at each fashionable detail he removed with unmistakable affection.  “Not for me.”</p><p>He knelt on the leather armchair and Hannibal came to him to place a heavy guiding hand in his soft curls.  Will opened to him easily enough, but the slide of Hannibal’s cock between his lips was fast and deliberately deep, rough.  It was what he had asked for, and Will was wild with it, sucking and lapping, moving his head in time with the way Hannibal directed him, fingers tight in his hair, thick cock pressing deeper over his tongue.</p><p>“It’s very different, isn’t it, Will?  Having a man inside of you.” Hannibal’s breath was reduced to panting as he plunged deep into that warm, wet and tight mouth that filled his dreams.  </p><p>Hannibal’s silky hair fell haphazardly over his brow as sweat prickled his skin.  Here they were, rendered so shameless in his office, going at each other as if nothing could ever stop them now.  If someone chanced to enter the room, he did not think they would stop.  They would only grow greedier and more aggressive, putting on a show, and the thought made him growl again.</p><p>He set one long, skilled finger to Will’s throat and felt the outline of his own cock through his skin while Will let out a keening, choking sound.  Pulling himself all the way back out, Hannibal looked down at Will’s red, tear-streaked face and reveled in his weak coughs.  </p><p>“Does it hurt you in the way you wanted?” he asked, his own voice raspy with too much emotion for the naughty, rough moment, but it couldn’t be helped.</p><p>Will nodded, gulping.  “Hurt me harder.  I want to feel you as deep as you can get.  I need you, under my skin, upending my world.”  His tone was garbled slightly by the wincing pain Hannibal had occasioned his throat, but Hannibal understood every syllable.  </p><p>Most of all, he understood how difficult it was for Will to ask for what he wanted.  From the beginning he had cautioned his favorite patient to give into his desires, from the kind and giving to the harshest, most selfish vice.  But Will always seemed to deny himself if he thought there was a chance he might experience a twinge of true joy and have to face that he deserved it, all the beauty, art and horror that this life had to give.  His nasty, twisted, menacing instincts made Will hate himself, as much as they occasioned Hannibal a shocking love.  </p><p>“Thank you for your honesty, Will,” Hannibal praised, hoping Will would allow him the brief transgression into sentiment.  </p><p>Will merely nodded, withdrawing his eye contact, but Hannibal knew he must be strict for Will’s own good.  They had come too far now to withdraw again into the shadows of pride and trepidation.</p><p>“I need you to show me, Will.  Where do you want me?”  Hannibal spoke in a rumbling but dictating tone, knowing Will craved his command and guidance.</p><p>“I…”  Will hesitated, and Hannibal worried he had gone too far.  </p><p>But then the younger man stood and removed his clothing, piece by piece under Hannibal’s hungry eyes.  The neatly ironed shirt glided through the air, falling to the floor like an ephemeral feather, a remnant of Will’s pretense of playing on Hannibal’s emotions to his own advantage.  He stepped shakily out of his trousers, then shucked off his shoes and socks, rolling his socks into tight bundles and pressing them into the shoes before setting them aside.  He was trying to control his anxiety even as it raged within him like a storm-wracked ship, bottled up in despair, stormy ocean waves cracking the glass.</p><p>As he stood naked and looking so very exposed, Hannibal stepped forward to gently cup his face in one hand.  He was content merely to offer comfort, but Will shivered although he could not bring himself to pull away.  </p><p>“I don’t know how to trust you with how I feel about you,” Will admitted.  “Do you know what that’s like?”</p><p>Hannibal nodded thoughtfully.  He let his hands trail from Will’s chest down to his stomach, memorizing every lovely inch of uncharted territory.  Will closed his eyes, and it seemed he was focusing on the simple act of breathing, with great difficulty.  He opened them again and blinked slowly, then licked his lips, trying to better cope with his emotional nakedness, doing it more bravely perhaps than Hannibal had yet managed.</p><p>Something in Will’s words suddenly cut him to the quick; something in Hannibal’s eyes served to set Will’s mind at ease just as suddenly: a reciprocated, carefully caged-in sense of panic.  To want like this, to need someone who seemed just as clearly designed to hurt you as to love you, was almost despicably painful, enough to make one shake a fist at cruel gods and reckless cupid, one’s own idiotic, insuperable craving.</p><p>“I’ve handled this badly from the beginning,” Hannibal admitted, swallowing past every screaming demand of his ego that he admit no such thing.  </p><p>Still, the confession only served to make Will huff a derisive laugh.  “Oh, really?”</p><p>“Hush, my love.” Hannibal laid a finger over his lush lips and sighed.  “I’ve been lying to everyone about how you make me feel, how you draw out affection in me that threatens my independence and pride.  How you make me cease to hold my usual priorities which made my life safe and secure.  I’ve lied more to myself than to anyone, however.  Those around me were for the most part clearly about to divine my feelings, yet it only made me hold them more fiercely within, smothering them in thoughts of self-preservation, haughty superiority over a state of openness.  For that I am sorry.”</p><p>“You should be,” said Will more softly than ever.  </p><p>He wrapped his arms around Hannibal’s neck and turned his pouting lips up to seal against Hannibal’s mouth.  They sighed and moaned together as the kiss deepened in a new, more sweetly exploring way, less of an angry accusation of love like their first kisses; more an admittance building upon the words they had said to loose their secrets.</p><p>Hannibal massaged over the strong muscle in Will’s back, automatically finding the places left stiff by anxiety and soothing them, then sweeping his strong hands up to knead out the almost ever-present knot of discomfort in his old shoulder injury.  Will gasped and melted further into the kiss.  Then they were groping each other’s asses with wanton hunger, squeezing and caressing as their tongues tangled in ecstatic, thorough enjoyment of each other such as they had mutually forbidden themselves to indulge. It was delicious and precious to experience this surrender, Hannibal running one finger tentatively between Will’s cheeks, then drily circling his hole, teasing until Will pulled away with a wet gasp, fingers clutching hard at Hannibal’s ruined shirt.</p><p>“I want you bent over the chair,” Hannibal said, his voice rendered hoarse with kissing and erotic fervor.  He had given up on trying to pressure Will into voicing his desires; Will still longed for his guidance, despite everything, and he would no longer balk at such a singular and nearly unearned honor.  He would earn it now, the bright excitement and trepidation in Will’s brilliant blue gaze, the way Hannibal’s command seemed to ease his darling boy’s bitterness and leave in its wake a fearful, desperately needy bashfulness.</p><p>Will leaned over the chair, displaying himself for the taking, luscious ass pivoted up, hands clamped down on the leather armrest, his face atop them, eyes closed, heart doubtless galloping uncontrollably.</p><p>“If you let me love you, I will never leave you again, upon an unconsummated bed of lies.  I have been unspeakably cruel,” Hannibal stroked Will’s ass slowly, allowing his affection to seep from his every word and caress.  </p><p>With a wry twist of a smile and tears dotting his gaze, Hannibal thought of a favorite passage in Jane Austen’s <i>Emma</i>, which he would never previously have admitted to enjoying, since like all of Austen’s works, it was equally as poignantly tenderhearted as it was an often amusingly incisive examination of human nature.  </p><p>“And you have borne it as no other man alive could have borne it,” he continued.  He shook his head in disbelief, sending his bangs more messily over his brow.  “You’ve never stopped coming back to me.” </p><p>“I can’t,” Will admitted, rosy-cheeked and bright-eyed, beautiful to the last heart-rending detail.</p><p>“If you let me love you,” Hannibal resumed, “I’ll dedicate my life to our happiness, starting now.  Will you be so transcendently kind as to allow it?”</p><p>His pride no longer chafed even as his professions of adoration evolved into an ever more florid yet  irresistibly candid design.  Sincerity, when it came to Will, was quickly becoming an addiction.  He could share himself with no one else...would Will accept him, finally, with his heart held out in his hands and the miserable mistakes of the past still scarring them both?</p><p>Will nodded, looking at him again so shyly, armor stripped away.  “Yes.”</p><p>Hannibal removed what was left of his shirt as the act made them both softly chuckle, noticing how Will had wrenched the expensive garment open and left it a bare remnant of fabric, suitable for the hero on a glossy romance novel cover.</p><p>They grew more serious again as Hannibal began applying his tenderly seeking mouth to Will’s most intimate and sensitive areas.  He laved his wet tongue with eager, slowly building attention in every way he had fantasized about, all over Will’s gorgeous cock, his aching balls and the perfect pink pucker of his entrance.  Some of these were wholly unaccustomed sensations for Will, but he bore the novelty with characteristic bravery, only letting out the occasional low cry of confusion in amongst his moans, all of his pretty sounds making Hannibal near-feral with need to be seated deep inside his heavenly tightness, to feel at last the hot embrace of them as one.</p><p>“Wait there a moment,” he murmured huskily.  He crossed the room on somewhat wobbly but determined legs to find the bottle of lube he kept in his desk drawer, as much out of the previously outrageous fantasy he might have need for it upon one of Will’s visits, as for the occasional bout of masturbation he indulged in after his favorite patient would depart of an evening.</p><p>When Hannibal began to open Will in earnest, first with ravishing laps and prods of his tongue, and then with the careful slide of a thick, well-lubricated finger, Will let out a strained yelp which blossomed into heady sighs.  By the time Hannibal was scissoring into him with two fingers, Will was moving his ass back into every deep stroke, crying out for more, saying “please” so winsomely that Hannibal had never felt so absolutely dedicated to spoiling him.  He wanted Will like this every day, laid out for him with delight, discovering new dimensions in his own capacity for pleasure.  Trusting Hannibal to be the one to bring him joy, to guide him in every part of his resplendent Becoming.</p><p>After fucking into Will with three fingers until the boy slammed his hand down on the chair and gasped, “Please, Hannibal, God -- <i>I need you</i>,” the delicate remnants of Hannibal’s restraint and commitment to taking it slow duly shattered.  Will was too much, too beautiful, so high on Hannibal’s body, the sternest and sweetest touch of his guiding hands, and Hannibal couldn’t hold back another second.</p><p>He gripped the meat of Will’s ass tightly, commandingly, as he guided himself slowly inside Will and closed his eyes as a heated rush of pleasure made his vision blur and his heart squeeze at the breaching.  There were no forts, no shadows of hurt feelings unspoken between them now, nothing to prevent the way this made them tremble together with an almighty duetting moan.</p><p>At the sound of Will’s bliss, Hannibal growled and spanked his boy harshly, drawing out yet more pleasured yelps, and yes, this was exactly how he had dreamed it, that Will would want his dominating side, but this was more.  The brilliant light and color of it was beyond any imagining, as Will arched his back, welcoming Hannibal in further.  </p><p>“Yes,” Will sighed against an inevitable tremble of pain; he was virginally tight and Hannibal must feel huge within the slick walls which held him.  He swept a loving hand over Will’s ass where he had spanked hard enough to leave pink handprints on the pale and pert flesh.  “So good.”</p><p>“The pain?” Hannibal asked, pulling almost entirely out before driving in, finally to the hilt, groaning in immediate rapture.  “The pleasure?”</p><p>Will had cried out again, so loudly it seemed to echo off the walls of the ponderous room, a room which always seemed so empty without him.  “Yeah, that’s -- Jesus, please don’t stop, okay?”</p><p>“Yes, my love.”  With that, Hannibal knew what they both needed, and he held Will’s hips in a vice grip, thrusting into him again and again, making sure Will felt the full, long, thick drive of his cock gliding deep with every stroke.</p><p>His balls slapped against Will’s ass as the air became musky with the scent of their joining, and he heard himself from some great, incomprehensible distance beyond the pleasure, verbally exulting of Will’s beauty and perfection.  It was only when Will gulped between moans, “What?” that Hannibal realized he’d been speaking in Lithuanian.  He hardly ever indulged his native tongue, as it usually bore too many awful memories of the past for him to enjoy it, but now...it seemed there was no other way to express his feelings than to draw them out from the furthest, most tightly locked room of his mind palace.</p><p>Hannibal slowed his thrusts, then withdrew with a sharply pained cry.  He gathered a baffled, pleasure-addled Will in his strong arms and kissed all over his flushed face, muttering, “I love you, my Will.”</p><p>“I love you, too,” Will answered dazedly but honestly, staring at him in the envelopment of a new trust, one which Hannibal dearly hoped would hold them both for the rest of their days.</p><p>He carried his wonderful, brave boy across the room and pressed his back to the bookshelf, then took him as Will had originally requested, with those lovely arms and legs wrapped tight around him as he thrust mercilessly.  He held Will up by his ass and pounded into him soundly, finding his prostate and treating it with delirious solicitude until Will melted into a startled, helpless orgasm.  Hannibal followed quickly thereafter, looking in astonishment at Will’s wonderstruck face as he gasped, “<i>Mylimasis</i>--” then filled Will with a hot gush of seed, his hips still slamming up in a shaky spasm as he chased the utmost pleasure in his release. </p><p>
Will scratched his back hard in response to the sensation of Hannibal’s release spurting into him, marking the place which Hannibal had made for himself deep inside Will.  
</p><p>
  “Fuck, I can’t believe the way that <i>feels</i>,” Will grunted, and Hannibal left a series of feverish kisses on his sweaty brow in response.  “Please do that to me every day, every night -- I don’t want it to end.”
</p><p>
“It won’t, my darling,” Hannibal vowed.  “Anytime I am not inside you, pouring out my love, I will be doing anything else it is in my power to do in order to make you just as happy.”
</p><p>
  <i></i>
</p><p>***</p><p>In his office fridge, Hannibal found half a bottle of excellent red wine and a tupperware filled with charcuterie items, a snack which it was always a good idea to keep on hand.  He cuddled up with Will on the couch, their lower bodies covered with the soft red blanket which Hannibal kept in the closet as a further piece of his past desire to enjoy post-coital embraces with the very tousle-haired lover who now laid a warm kiss on his cheek.  </p><p>Will chortled at the meticulously organized assortment of meats, cheeses and fruits in the plastic container, arranged in order of color.  “You’re so fucking cute, it’s exasperating.”  He popped a green olive in his mouth as Hannibal cast him a faux-annoyed, thoroughly flattered look.</p><p>“The feeling is quite mutual, my dear.”  He smelled, then tasted his wine, marveling at how much more vibrant every flavor and scent was now that they could share them.  Thoughtfully, he added, “Is it too soon for me to potentially ruin things by asking you your future intentions?”</p><p>“Don’t worry, I’m not going to carry on with my plan to entrap you,” Will smirked, bumping their hips.  “Well, I won’t entrap you in anything else but my arms, that is.  Cheesy?”  He blushed a bit and Hannibal grinned.</p><p>“Yes.  Please, do go on.”</p><p>“Well, as you know perfectly well, the situation is fucked, Hannibal.  I love you, and part of that love is that we both share a certain...proclivity for violence.  I don’t know how to embrace that in myself, or how to avoid it if we’re together.  I may have to sacrifice my morality to be complete and enjoy my life, and that’s--”</p><p>“Have you considered revising it?” Hannibal lifted his brows as if this was the mildest, most innocuous suggestion.</p><p>“<i>My morality</i>?” Will stared at him slack-jawed and not unamused.  “My conscience is not a legal document in need of a few <i>revisions</i>, Hannibal.  If I give in to everything I want, I don’t know how I’ll ever forgive myself.”</p><p>“With my hand in yours,” Hannibal posited confidently, “With our mutual trust and full communication.  The roll of a dice and a gambit on your part.  What do you have to lose except your own despair?”</p><p>“Good point.  You know if the trust is going to go both ways, the communication had damn well better be ‘full.’  I want to know everything, Hannibal.  Sometime, you’re going to tell me your whole story from the beginning, give me every secret.  It’s the only way for us to be true partners.”</p><p>“I’m well-aware,” Hannibal agreed, blushing.  </p><p>This would not be easy, but he would embrace it as a temporarily painful necessity, a brick in the foundation of the happiness they would build together.  He would have to tear down every one of his own fortresses to make ready his grounds.</p><p>  “As such, there is one explanation I shall owe you very soon, and a visit we should make at our earliest opportunity.”  Alluding to Abigail, he tried to balance out the anticipation of Will’s doubtless very righteously angry response to his having lied about her death, with the hope of the three of them being a family at last.</p><p>“Okay, then,” Will nodded.  He gave into an affectionate smile as Hannibal’s face remained slightly stressed, his posture overly stiff.  “Hey, whatever it is, we’ll get through it together.  I might very well slap you within an inch of your life if you show me something upsetting, but if you’re honest with me, I’ll forgive you.”</p><p>“Thank you, mylimasis,” Hannibal said with a cautious smile.  He relaxed as Will set the food aside to nuzzle into his chest.  His own arms came up to easily encircle the younger man as he released an instantly contented sigh.  </p><p>“So on another subject...did Bedelia Du Maurier send you a <i>book</i>?” Will asked, tracing lazy circles through Hannibal’s chest hair.</p><p>“Yes.”  Hannibal shook his head in a flash of annoyance.  “<i>The Co-dependent Relationship Workbook.</i> Absurd!”</p><p>“She sent me, <i>Dating a Narcissist,</i>” Will said, looking up at him with a teasing smile.  “A pretty good read, actually.”</p><p>“Oh, was it?” Hannibal smirked, rearranging them with deft strength to pin Will to the couch beneath him.  “Was it really?”  He kissed Will’s lips, sharing the taste of their laughter.</p><p>Soon they tumbled to the floor and continued unraveling each other as laughs opened into joyfully aching sighs, then resounding moans.  They left their web of mutual deception far behind and embraced the truth that had finally set them free.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Thanks for reading and hope you enjoyed!  💖</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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